


Keraunography

by henriqua



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, Best Friends to Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28411131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: “I could totally offer if it was you,” Otabek says instead, only realizing the meaning of his words after they’re out of his mouth.He didnotmean to say that aloud. It’s a thought that’s been swimming around in his mind since he learned about Yuri’s dating app habits and got immensely worried, but it was supposed to stay like that - a thought; a private thing inside his head.[Keraunography refers to the belief that lightning, when striking an object (generally a human body), can leave markings which constitute a photographic image of surrounding objects.]
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "feelings are a lot of work", I present you another otayuri au that started as a joke and then got out of my control. Please don't expect regular updates, but expect updates.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“What’s that?”  
  
Yuri looks up from his phone and blinks. His eyes follow Otabek as he walks around the couch and sits next to him, setting down two plates of take-out on the coffee table.  
  
“What? This?” Yuri asks, tilting his phone so Otabek can see the screen better instead of just the small glimpse he managed to catch over the couch’s back. “It’s a dating app.”  
  
“Oh,” Otabek says, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing on the screen of Yuri’s phone. However, Yuri’s words seem to have frozen his brain, and he doesn’t register anything but an orange-and-black color scheme and some blurry pictures before Yuri has locked the phone and put it screen-down on the coffee table. He reaches for a plate of food, seemingly nonchalant although there’s a faint blush on his cheeks.  
  
Otabek’s movements feel robotic as he looks away, takes the other plate and tries to get comfortable on the couch while Yuri starts up Netflix and hits play on a series they’ve been watching lately. Otabek tries to focus on the TV and the Chinese food he carefully plated only moments ago (Otabek can’t fathom people who eat their take-away food straight from the grimy, steamy cardboard containers - Yuri always makes fun of him but lets him do as he wishes whenever they order something to eat), but although he somehow understands what he’s eating and what is happening in the show they’re watching, his thoughts are elsewhere.  
  
He had no idea Yuri used a dating app. Or possibly apps, plural.  
  
It’s not like it should matter to Otabek, because Yuri is an adult and can definitely do whatever he pleases in his free time. But it’s been Otabek’s job to look after Yuri since they were in elementary school and he never grew out of it, kind of. Yuri doesn’t _need_ anyone to protect him since he’s proven multiple times he can handle pretty much anything on his own without anyone’s help, but Otabek cares about him deeply, and he doesn’t want Yuri to get hurt.  
  
And dating apps can be dangerous. Otabek doesn’t have any personal experience, but he’s heard and read all kinds of stories horrible enough to keep him from joining those sites. He definitely doesn’t want Yuri to catch some awful disease from a stranger or become the dating app predators’ next victim.  
  
“Do you use it often?” Otabek asks after a moment, unable to stop himself. He knows it’s not really his business, but a heavy feeling he can’t quite name has crawled its way into his chest and it’s uncomfortable to hold in.  
  
“Hm?” Yuri’s concentration is on the Netflix show, and he takes a quick glance of Otabek out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze on the TV screen. “Use what?”  
  
“That app.”  
  
Yuri shrugs and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. He’s still not looking at Otabek’s direction, and Otabek feels too ashamed to look at him. “Every now and then when I need to blow off some steam.”  
  
“So you sleep around for fun?”  
  
Another shrug. “Doesn’t everyone?”  
  
“I guess,” Otabek gives in, and Yuri doesn’t continue the conversation. Otabek empties his plate slowly and then places it on the coffee table, feeling suddenly more uneasy than before he opened his mouth earlier. He can’t concentrate on the show they’re watching, his focus somewhere else entirely, so he decides to break the silence once more. “They’re strangers you meet up with, right?”  
  
Yuri lets out a sigh, but he doesn’t sound irritated - Otabek can almost hear the amused roll of eyes Yuri’s long hair is hiding as he puts his own plate down and reaches for the remote control, pausing the show. He shifts on the couch so they’re facing each other, and Otabek meets his eyes briefly.  
  
“I’m being careful, Beka. I meet them in a public place first, and if something feels off, I don’t go with them. It’s just harmless fun, okay?”  
  
“I’m just worried about you,” Otabek says, defensive. The look on Yuri’s face softens a little, but it doesn’t exactly help with the weird weight inside Otabek’s chest.  
  
“You don’t have to be. It’s not like I sleep with a different guy every other day. I use protection and get tested regularly. Sometimes I just get stressed out and blowing someone helps me to relax a little,” Yuri says, a blush painting his cheeks - his sexuality isn’t something Otabek doesn’t know of, but they rarely bring up their respective sex lives despite being closer than most best friends probably are. In the two years they’ve shared an apartment there have been a few awkward incidents where one of them has brought someone over for the night after a college party, but it hasn’t really affected their friendship.  
  
And when Otabek really thinks about it now, it has always been _him_ bringing someone over. He has never caught someone leaving Yuri’s room in the early hours, and there has never been a stranger greeting him from the kitchen table in the morning. However, as Yuri basically just confirmed himself, he sleeps around semi-regularly too, which means he goes to his partner’s place instead of bringing them over. The realization doesn’t only make Otabek’s worry grow slightly bigger, but also makes him wonder why Yuri prefers it that way. Otabek has brought his guests over more than once, so he wouldn’t get mad for Yuri doing it, too.  
  
Is Yuri ashamed or embarrassed? Scared? Or maybe he’s into something he definitely doesn’t want Otabek to know about?  
  
The thought hits Otabek like a brick and he swallows with difficulty. They don’t talk about their sex lives, and the image his mind crafts of Yuri dressed in black leather and holding a pair of handcuffs makes Otabek’s stomach drop in a way he has never felt before, so he turns his attention back on the frozen TV screen and takes the remote control.  
  
“That’s alright. I just want you to be safe, you know.”  
  
“I appreciate it,” Yuri says, his voice thankful but also sounding like he is trying to hold in a laugh. He relaxes against the back of the couch and Otabek follows his suit, but his thoughts are still too loud for him to comprehend what really goes on in the show he’s supposed to watch.  
  
/ / /  
  
Otabek stares at the photo editing program on his laptop screen and frowns. The program stares back, white cursor on a blank canvas, waiting for something to happen. Usually this kind of inability to get started would infuriate Otabek, especially with deadlines just around the corner, but Otabek has struggled to concentrate the whole day and the silence of the library is finally giving him the optimal atmosphere to dive head-first into his exceptionally loud stream of thoughts.  
  
He will never admit he lost sleep the previous night over Yuri and dating apps. Rationally thinking he knows he’s being absolutely ridiculous, worrying so much over what his best friend does in his free time and who he decides to spend that time with, but it _is_ bothering Otabek and he has to find the reason why before he gets too sleep-deprived to function.  
  
Otabek thinks it’s most probably worry: worry that Yuri will get hurt, and worry that something would happen to their friendship if Yuri started dating someone. The thought is incredibly selfish and Otabek scolds himself mentally for it. There’s also worry because up until now Otabek had zero idea Yuri was even hooking up with guys he met on a dating app, but apparently he has been doing that for a while now, and that fact has nestled itself comfortably on top of Otabek’s worry, creating an entirely new feeling he can’t really name.  
  
Otabek takes a deep breath and tells himself he has to concentrate on the project he’s working on instead of his best friend’s free time activities. He’s determined when he navigates through his folder of works in progress and finds the picture he started editing last night. He clicks it open and watches with emotionless eyes as his editing program crashes as it tries to handle the file, and Otabek kind of wants to throw his laptop out of the library window.  
  
He can’t do that, obviously, because he definitely can’t afford a new laptop right now.  
  
So instead he shuts down the program and lets his laptop have a moment to get itself back together. He plugs his headphones in, puts on a Spotify playlist of his favorite songs and reaches for his phone as the laptop struggles to re-open the photo editing program. Otabek knows from experience it’s going to take several minutes for the program to be ready to use after crashing, so he busies himself with something else while he waits: a few taps on the screen of his phone takes him to an app store and some more tapping finds him an app he’s looking for, but then he hesitates, his thumb hovering over the screen.  
  
Otabek can’t decide if he’s being creepy, over-protective or simply out of his mind for even considering this, but before he gets to think about it too much, he’s already clicked _install_ on the dating app he saw Yuri use last night.  
  
He skims through the tips on how to use the app and doesn’t really take his time to create a good profile since he’s not there to stay. He puts in the necessities the app requires, turns on his location and starts scrolling through the countless profiles of good-looking men around his area. He’s not even surprised to see some familiar faces from his classes, because just like Yuri said, people their age tend to sleep around. Otabek has nothing against it: it’s fine, it’s healthy (if you’re careful), it’s _normal_. None of the men Otabek sees on the screen look like bad people, but he supposes predators don’t necessarily look predatory.  
  
He doesn’t really know, because he doesn’t use apps like this. Scrolling is starting to feel a little overwhelming and Otabek thinks the weird feeling inside his chest is probably just another type of worry - and then he spots Yuri.  
  
Otabek clicks Yuri’s profile open before his rational thinking catches up with him. He looks at the picture of his best friend in ripped jeans and an oversized T-shirt, running a hand through his blond hair, a red plastic cup in his other hand as he laughs and looks past the camera.  
  
Otabek knows the picture well because he took it a few weeks back at a party they went to. The shirt is actually Otabek’s, but around the start of the semester their laundry got mixed and Yuri claimed it. Otabek has at least five identical black T-shirts still remaining in his wardrobe, so he has said nothing.  
  
Slowly Otabek’s eyes leave the picture and read the short introduction text beneath it.  
  
_Yuri, 20. From Russia with rage._

  * _Not looking for anything serious_


  * _A dance major, so probably more flexible than your ex_



  
Otabek snorts and then looks quickly around himself to make sure no one saw or heard him do that. Fortunately the library is relatively empty and Otabek lets out a sigh of relief, reading through Yuri’s succinct profile text again. It’s funny because it’s exactly something Yuri would say, without giving away too much personal information.  
  
Otabek frowns to himself, thumb aimlessly scrolling up and down on the page. He’s not quite sure what he expected to find by stalking his best friend on a dating app. They grew up together so Otabek _knows_ Yuri, and by the look of it, he’s not trying to pretend to be someone else online just to get laid - not that Otabek thought he would. Yuri is straightforward, hardworking and smart, and maybe Otabek wanted to find a reason why he doesn’t bring overnight guests to their shared apartment like Otabek does every now and then.  
  
Yuri’s profile doesn’t answer that question so Otabek goes to the settings, deletes his minutes-old profile and then proceeds to delete the entire app from his phone. He thinks his whole quest was kind of stupid and he puts his phone away, happy to forget about it and concentrate on actually important things now that his photo editing program has loaded and seems to be working.  
  
/ / /  
  
No matter how long Otabek works in the library after classes, he’s always home before Yuri. Otabek is introverted by nature, and although Yuri’s presence doesn’t drain him like everyone else’s does, he still enjoys the time he gets to spend by himself at home.  
  
He drops his things in his room, changes into loose joggers and puts on some music on his way to the kitchen. He adjusts the volume so it’s just a nice background noise and gets started on dinner, mentally patting himself on the back for doing grocery shopping the previous day. He snacks on an apple and some chocolate forgotten on the kitchen counter while waiting for the water to boil, neatly wrapping the last two rows of the chocolate bar and placing it on the kitchen table for Yuri.  
  
Yuri comes home tired and hungry when Otabek is almost done with the dinner. He sits at the kitchen table, opens his laptop and reaches for the chocolate. He asks about Otabek’s day and at first Otabek thinks he should lie and say it was nothing out of ordinary, but he has always been a terrible liar and a part of him wants some answers to all the questions that have been bothering him since the previous night.  
  
“Actually, I installed a dating app.”  
  
“You did?” Yuri asks, amused. “Why?”  
  
“Because I’ve never used one, and since you were using one, I thought I should see what it’s all about.”  
  
“Let me guess, you’re already drowning in messages,” Yuri huffs out, and Otabek frowns a little at the unusually sharp edge in his tone.  
  
“Actually I chickened out and deleted it pretty quickly,” Otabek says. _That_ is a small lie, because his only reason for registering on the site was to see if he could find Yuri on there. “Don’t you think it’s overwhelming? There are so many people in there.”  
  
Yuri shrugs, his eyes fixated on the screen of his laptop as Otabek stirs chopped tomatoes into the sauce. “It is a little, but when you aren’t particularly… _popular_ , it’s the only way.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Otabek knows he attracts people easily, especially in parties when everyone is a little bit drunk and he’s not so reserved himself. But Yuri is incredibly attractive, too: he’s tall, athletic and has a beautiful smile. It takes him some time to warm up to people and that’s why he struggles to make friends, but with his guard let down he’s the sweetest, silliest person ever.  
  
“Well,” Yuri says, stretching the word. Otabek turns around and leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow quirked in expectation. ”Not all of us have people lining up and basically offering themselves if we ask.  
  
Otabek rolls his eyes because that’s not true - he has friends and in the past few years he has learned not to get too anxious in crowds. That has made it a lot easier for him to smile when people introduce themselves to him in different events and parties, and usually by the end of the night he’s engrossed in a conversation with a complete stranger whom he sometimes invites over and-  
  
Otabek realizes there may be some truth in Yuri’s words.  
  
He shrugs, a little embarrassed, and Yuri laughs at him. Otabek turns around to switch the stove off, only a little ashamed. “Yeah okay, you might be right, but I don’t sleep with a stranger after every party I go to.”  
  
“I know, it was just an observation. Some people get offers and some don’t,” Yuri says, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice but failing. Otabek kind of wants to tell Yuri that he would definitely get numerous offers if his poisonous tongue didn’t metaphorically slice at every single person who tried to approach him at parties, but he stays silent because he knows Yuri is self-conscious about that.  
  
“I could totally offer if it was you,” Otabek says instead, only realizing the meaning of his words after they’re out of his mouth.  
  
He did _not_ mean to say that aloud. It’s a thought that’s been swimming around in his mind since he learned about Yuri’s dating app habits and got immensely worried, but it was supposed to stay like that - a thought; a private thing inside his head.  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?” The heavy silence that fell between them felt longer than Otabek’s physics lectures, and he’s so incredibly grateful Yuri broke it that he tries to keep the conversation going. However the confused and borderline angry stare Yuri gives him from the kitchen table tells him he can’t bluff his way out of this. “I mean, I’m worried about you sleeping with strangers because every stranger is a potential murderer and I’ve read dating sites are full of people with bad intentions, but I also understand the primal needs all of us have, so what I’m trying to say is that if I can somehow help you and keep you safe at the same time, then I’d totally be up for it.”  
  
Yuri frowns, seemingly having difficulties with digesting everything Otabek just said. The look on his face is confused and a little irritated, like he’s thinking Otabek is making fun of him, and Otabek wishes he could keep his mind-to-mouth filter working around Yuri (he gets too comfortable around Yuri simply because they’ve known each other for so long, and sometimes it’s definitely not a blessing).  
  
“I’m just worried something will happen to you, that’s all. I know you can take care of yourself, though, so forget about what I just said,” Otabek continues when Yuri doesn’t say anything. He turns to plate their dinner and grabs some cutlery, Yuri’s questioning stare burning holes onto his back.  
  
“Okay,” Yuri says slowly after a moment, and when Otabek takes a glance of him over his shoulder, Yuri’s fingers are flying over the keyboard of his laptop, his eyes following the text on its screen. The air between them still feels a little weird and Otabek wishes from the bottom of his heart that dinner and an episode of a dumb Netflix show will help with it.  
  
“Cool, okay. Okay.”  
  
/ / /  
  
Five days a week Yuri has a ballet lesson starting at 8am sharp, so he gets out of bed at the crack of dawn, eats a quick breakfast and is sitting in a bus when the rest of the city is still struggling to wake up. After ballet he has a lecture, then a lunch break and another lecture. In the afternoon his schedule has choreography workshops, contemporary or more ballet, depending on the day of the week. Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday he has teaching after his own lessons, so he takes a bus to Lilia’s ballet school and snacks on whatever he tossed into his back that morning while still being half asleep (Lilia Baranovskaya is the Head Choreographer of the college’s ballet department, who also runs her own ballet school. She often hires her more talented college students, and although teaching ballet to kids and pre-teens isn’t Yuri’s dream job, he gets paid for it, so he forces himself to tolerate children three times a week). On Wednesdays and Fridays when Yuri doesn’t have teaching duty he stays behind after his classes because the college’s practice rooms are open until midnight and he always has something to work on.  
  
When Yuri eventually gets home he’s tired and hungry, so he ends up having a deliciously unhealthy snack while working on assignments or other school-related things. On most days Otabek cooks or reheats them a dinner, but if it’s Yuri’s turn to cook, he orders take-away because he sucks at cooking, and Otabek plates the food (he refuses to eat out of the cardboard containers and Yuri makes fun of him, but lets him do it since it seems to give him a peace of mind). They usually end up opening Netflix or watching a movie from Otabek’s laptop while eating, and without a fail Otabek catches Yuri nodding off around 10pm and says he can have the bathroom first. Yuri thanks him while yawning, takes a shower and brushes his teeth, and plays some Animal Crossing in bed before falling asleep.  
  
Yuri has a weekly routine, and he likes it just as much as he likes to sleep in and binge-watch dumb romantic comedies in his pajamas on the weekends. He started doing ballet at a very young age, and the tough discipline and strict structures became his daily life before he even allowed himself to dream of actually studying dance and making a profession out of it, and maybe that’s exactly why creating a routine was so easy for him when he started his studies.  
  
But, for the first time in years, last night Yuri’s routine got so badly messed up that even his classmates notice it.  
  
“Earth to Yuri, do you copy?” Yuri blinks and half-heartedly slaps Mila’s hand away that she was waving in front of his face. She has a worried frown on her face as she puts her hands on her hips and looks down at Yuri who’s sitting on a bench, his practice gear only halfway on. “Are you alright? You seem kinda out of it.”  
  
“‘M fine,” Yuri mumbles and zips his bag up in annoyance. He pulls on a thin sweater and looks around, almost getting frustrated until Mila hands him a hair tie. He takes it with a sigh. “Just couldn’t sleep last night.”  
  
“That’s a first,” Mila says, and she couldn’t be more right: when it comes to sleep, Yuri has always been gifted. He can sleep anywhere and anytime, and it usually takes him less than ten minutes to fall asleep when he closes his eyes. He’s never had problems with sleeping, but lately his days are also so busy he’s exhausted by the time he goes to bed.  
  
But last night Yuri tossed and turned restlessly in his bed for hours, catching only an hour or two of sleep before his alarm went off - and only because of Otabek.  
  
The conversation they had before dinner kept replaying in Yuri’s head throughout the entire night, mostly because he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to think of it. It’s been a few days since Otabek caught Yuri on a dating app, and it apparently worried Otabek out of his mind, because to keep Yuri from hooking up with those random dating app guys he’s _offering_.  
  
Yuri has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.  
  
He knows Otabek is not completely straight because he’s told him he has slept with a guy once, but from what Yuri has observed, he prefers women (or at least all the guests he has brought over in the past two years have been women). They don’t really talk about their sex lives because although they’re best friends and exceptionally close, Yuri has always thought their interests simply don’t meet. Overall Yuri doesn’t exactly feel comfortable to talk about his sexuality despite being out to his best friend because his family has never accepted him like he had hoped for, and a part of him is still a little ashamed.  
  
But that’s not the problem here - the problem is that, according to his own words, Otabek is worried Yuri will meet a murderer or another kind of predator on a dating app, and apparently his solution to this worry is to offer himself when Yuri wants some dick as a way to destress.  
  
In theory it’s tempting and exciting, but in reality Yuri isn’t sure how he’s feeling about it. Coming up with some kind of friends with benefits - arrangement with Otabek is, _in theory_ , great: Otabek has an attractive face and a nice body, and they’re roommates so neither of them would have to travel far to sate their needs, but they’re best friends. And to Yuri Otabek isn’t just a best friend, but someone he appreciates and trusts; someone who has never turned his back to him despite knowing his ugliest secrets. And on top of that-  
  
“Yuri!” Yuri jumps, letting out a deep sigh as he realizes he had just zoned out - _again_. The look on Mila’s face is unimpressed. “Are you sure you’re alright? Maybe you should skip the lesson.”  
  
“Not a chance,” Yuri says and stands up, grabbing his bottle of water and walking past his red-haired friend. If he doesn’t get something else to think about he’s going to jump headfirst into an endless spiral of thoughts with his best friend in the middle of them all, and sooner or later that would drive him mad. A ballet lesson is a better option, even if Lilia is going to yell at him if she catches him yawning.  
  
Mila rolls her eyes at Yuri but doesn’t say anything, and follows him into the training room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay healthy ♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/avaruussade) | [tumblr](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags, and I'll keep adding them as the story progresses. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For the past three hours Otabek has been watching Yuri work on a paper at the living room’s coffee table, sitting on the floor with his laptop and a selection of books spread on the table in front of him. He thinks it can’t be the most comfortable nor the most ergonomic place to write, but Otabek knows better than to judge Yuri’s decisions - especially because his fingers are flying over the laptop’s keyboard effortlessly, the document on the screen filling up with words.  
  
Otabek can’t say the same about his own assignments.  
  
“Aren’t you hungry?” Otabek asks. He sits on the couch and watches the baking show Yuri has put on the background without really concentrating on it. One baker’s cakes are refusing to set and she’s scooping up liquidy batter into a bowl.  
  
“Hungry for something else than this, yeah,” Yuri mutters and reviews his text, looking bored as he scrolls up.  
  
“You haven’t taken a break since the morning.”  
  
“I just want to get this done,” Yuri says with a sigh. “Because I have two other papers to write by the end of this month, and I haven’t prepared anything for my lessons next week, either.”  
  
“It’s only the first week of the month, though. And it’s Saturday today, so you have time,” Otabek says and tries to believe in his own words since he has some homework to finish as well.  
  
“Yeah,” Yuri agrees and rubs his eyes. “My head feels all foggy but I wanna force myself to finish this thing.”  
  
“You have written five pages in the last three hours.”  
  
“It’s all bullshit, though.”  
  
“College is all about quantity over quality. Now put your laptop away and I’ll make us some tea, and you take a break,” Otabek orders, and although Yuri rolls his eyes at him, there’s a small, grateful smile on his face.  
  
Otabek stands up and heads to the kitchen, telling himself he’s only looking after Yuri and not trying to sabotage his academic success or diminish his motivation just because he can’t force himself to work on his own assignments that afternoon. He convinces himself that a relaxing tea break will be exactly what both of them need, and with a reaffirming nod no one else can see he puts the kettle on.  
  
When Otabek walks back into the living room with two steaming cups of tea, Yuri is already there, sitting in the corner of their couch. He’s scrolling on his phone, but when Otabek places their mugs down on the coffee table he locks the device and puts it down next to himself, his attention shifting to the TV.   
  
Otabek takes a glance at the phone and raises his eyebrows in question: Yuri basically throwing the device away the moment Otabek entered the room could probably only mean one thing. “Dating apps again?”  
  
“Stop teasing me.”  
  
“I’m not teasing you.”  
  
Yuri sighs in defeat and reaches for a cup of tea, takes a sip and curses under his breath when the liquid is still scalding hot. He hides most of his face behind the cup as his eyes study the baking show on the TV, the tips of his ears a little redder than usual. “I’m just feeling kinda stressed out about all the shit I’m supposed to do, and usually a… quick something helps me clear my head.”  
  
“Well, I _am_ offering,” Otabek says half-jokingly before his rational thinking catches up with his thoughts. When the realization hits his consciousness, a part of him wishes the Earth could open up and swallow him, or alternatively send someone to punch him in his mouth so he wouldn’t be able to talk ever again.  
  
Ever since he accidentally slipped the whole offering-deal out of his mouth, Otabek has realized how absolutely creepy it must have sounded to Yuri. They’ve known each other since childhood, they’re best friends, and although they live together and have seen each other in all kinds of situations throughout their lives, there are things best friends don’t normally do. Offering sexual favors is definitely one of those things even if neither of them is 100% straight. Otabek isn’t quite sure where the thought originally came from and why he didn’t immediately banish it as far as he could, because now he’s in trouble since he apparently _can’t_ get it out of his mind.  
  
Otabek’s inner panic is too great for him to open his mouth and come up with an explanation for his words, and Yuri beats him. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”  
  
“Well,” Otabek says with a shrug, impressing himself by sounding relaxed and somewhat nonchalant. His heart is hammering inside his chest, but he manages to keep his face relatively stoic. “I’m just curious.”  
  
“Curious? But you’ve slept with a guy,” Yuri says, frowning in confusion. Otabek shrugs again, mentally congratulating himself for figuring out such a great reasoning under pressure.  
  
“Yeah, but we were both really drunk and went straight to the point, and it wasn’t exactly great.” The memory is a little blurry, and if Otabek is being honest, he doesn’t even remember the guy’s name anymore. He feels a bang of guilt at that.  
  
“So you want me to blow you or something?” Yuri sounds suspicious, a slightly amused undertone slipping into his voice.  
  
“What _I_ want,” Otabek hurries to say, gathering enough courage to properly meet Yuri’s eyes to make sure he understands the importance of his words. “Is for you to be safe and not get kidnapped or murdered by a dating app stranger.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen as often as you think, Beka.”  
  
“I’m being serious.”  
  
“I know. I’m sorry,” Yuri says, unable to wipe the hint of a smile out of his face. He puts his tea cup on the table and clears his throat. “But okay.”  
  
Otabek blinks, confused. “ ‘But okay’ what?” He watches as Yuri takes the hair tie he always has around his wrist and ties his hair up, the messy blond ponytail and a light pink blush on his cheeks making something inside Otabek’s chest shift.  
  
“I can blow you,” he says, leaving the couch. He’s already settling himself between Otabek’s knees before Otabek even realizes what he just said.  
  
“Wait, I didn’t mean you have to-”  
  
“You’re offering, aren’t you?” Yuri asks, looking up at Otabek through his eyelashes. The color of his eyes is dark, deeper and alluring in a way Otabek has never seen before, and all he can do is nod weakly. A smile appears on Yuri’s face. “Then I’m taking the offer.”  
  
The sound Otabek lets out of his mouth is a mix of _yes_ and _okay_ , but Yuri doesn’t seem interested in figuring out what he tried to say. Yuri finds the waistband of Otabek’s joggers and tugs tentatively, and Otabek is in too much hurry to remove his pants to notice how Yuri’s hands are shaking.  
  
The joggers get thrown on the floor and Otabek is barely breathing when Yuri makes himself comfortable between his legs. He runs his fingertips on Otabek’s skin, from the insides of his knees all the way to where the fabric of his underwear hugs his thighs. He closes his eyes, long and pale eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, and plants a light kiss on the side of Otabek’s left knee. The brush of Yuri’s lips makes Otabek’s breath hitch, and he watches in some kind of unexplainable daze as Yuri kisses his way up on his leg, his touch growing from tentative to more confident; from feather-like to filthy.  
  
Yuri’s right hand travels upwards and slips past the hem of Otabek’s T-shirt, fingertips dragging slowly over his lower stomach. Otabek’s cock twitches in his underwear.  
  
Otabek can’t decide where to look. Should he keep his eyes focused on Yuri’s face and how his breathing ghosts over his skin between the open-mouthed kisses he keeps planting on his thighs? Or should he follow Yuri’s right hand, fingers now travelling along the waistband of his boxer briefs, careful not to touch the obvious bulge straining against the fabric? Or should he look away, close his eyes completely and try to calm down the anticipation and excitement burning inside him?  
  
Ultimately Yuri makes the decision for him when he pulls down the waistband of Otabek’s underwear and frees his erection, and Otabek leans his head against the couch’s backrest, biting the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. He doesn’t see Yuri taking a quick glance at him before he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and licks his lips, the blush on his face growing deeper in color. He mouths at the very tip of Otabek’s dick, swirling his tongue around tentatively before pressing it flat over the underside upon a small gasp Otabek didn’t manage to stifle.  
  
Yuri smiles to himself and licks his way up and down, his hand lazily stroking the base. He opens his mouth and guides Otabek’s cock in, it resting full and heavy on his tongue, sliding easily in and out as he moves. Yuri knew Otabek was on the bigger side but it feels totally different than the other big guys he’s played with before; his mouth fits perfectly around Otabek, and although he lets it be sloppy and slow and almost exploratory, the way Otabek’s body responds to his touches makes Yuri’s head spin. Otabek breathes harshly through his nose and clenches his hands into fists, trying to keep his usually unwavering self-control somewhat together. Inside his head he’s already spiraling, the heat of Yuri’s mouth around him setting all the little, impatient sparks of pleasure on fire as they travel through his veins.   
  
Otabek groans when Yuri relaxes his jaw and closes his eyes, taking his dick deeper and deeper with each bob of his head. He doesn’t realize his right hand has made its way into Yuri’s hair until Yuri presses a thumb over his slit and he grabs a fistful of blond hair, Yuri’s poorly bitten back moan making the bottom of Otabek’s stomach coil with heat. He really tries not to roll his hips when Yuri swallows him again but after a few excruciating moments he can’t help it. He feels overwhelmed and hot all over, and Yuri gripping his thighs with firm hands somehow manages to comfort him and completely fry his brain at the same time.  
  
“Yuri,” Otabek chokes out, daring to open his eyes and look down. His fingers are still tangled in Yuri’s hair, pulling his loose ponytail completely apart. Yuri frowns in concentration, eyes squeezed shut as he pushes forward, attempting to take all of Otabek’s cock in his mouth. Otabek feels the need to curve his back against the couch and let pleasure take over, but he can’t do anything but watch. He’s mesmerized, his head filling with white, crackling static. “Yuri. _Yura_.”  
  
Otabek shivers, and then his orgasm hits him like a tidal wave. Yuri pulls back only a second too late and Otabek doesn’t register how his right hand wraps around his cock, stroking thick strips of come out of him. Yuri uses his other hand to wipe away the cum that hit his cheek, and then he rests it over the ache between his own legs. He sighs in relief, the sound small and silent next to Otabek’s labored breaths of air.  
  
Slowly the room quiets down, and Otabek comes back to his senses through what feels like heavy layers of sleep: he blinks his eyes open but his vision is blurry, and his limbs must weigh at least two thousand pounds. He whines when the sweet warmth around his oversensitive cock disappears, and he fights to get his eyes to focus on a figure standing up and taking a step away.  
  
“What about you?” he hears himself ask, his coherent thoughts lagging behind his instincts.  
  
“It’s fine. Gotta clean up,” Yuri says and hurries to the bathroom, Otabek’s fogged up gaze following him.  
  
Yuri locks the bathroom door behind him and leans his back against it, stifling his urge to scream only because Otabek is just a room away and would probably rush to him, thinking he needs help. In reality the last thing Yuri needs right now is Otabek, no matter how it usually _is_ Otabek he goes to when he feels like yelling out his frustrations.  
  
Yuri slides down until he’s sitting on the floor and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. He inspects himself with a lump in his throat: there’s dried cum on both of his hands and a sticky, uncomfortable mess in his pants. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know his hair is all over the place, and he can physically feel a heat of humiliation spreading over his face and down his chest.  
  
He can’t believe he came into his pants with just one gentle touch of his hand over his dick like some kind of embarrassing teenager. He also can’t believe he got so turned on by blowing someone when usually it’s just something he does to get himself into the right mood.  
  
Yuri can’t believe it, but he knows exactly why his body reacted like it did. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that bringing his best friend to orgasm in one way or another has been a recurring theme in his top-secret fantasies for some years now. It should be a huge surprise he didn’t come on the spot when Otabek let him get between his legs, and Yuri is extremely thankful he managed to hold himself together as long as he did.  
  
He gets up with a heavy sigh and takes off his clothes without sparing a look in the mirror. He throws everything into his laundry basket and turns the shower on, stepping under the spray. The water is cold but Yuri likes it; likes how it clears his mind and freezes over the soreness that’s a crush on his best friend he developed over five years ago.  
  
/ / /  
  
Otabek is hit with a choir of high-pitched laughs and faint piano music when he opens the dance studio’s door. He lets himself bask in the vestibule’s warm air for a second, relieved to get away from the nasty wind that’s been blowing for the last few days, freezing him to his bones.  
  
He ventures further inside, greeting a group of middle schoolers with a little nod that sends them into shy giggles. They retreat to their dressing room, whispering to each other behind their hands, and Otabek wishes he wouldn’t feel as embarrassed and out of place as he does in his leather jacket and combat boots.  
  
Otabek knows his way around the studio well enough to find Yuri’s practice room (or, it isn’t _Yuri’s_ room exactly, but it’s where his lessons are always held in). He stops at the open door and scans the room: wooden barres lining three of the walls, a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror covering the fourth one, everything lit up by harsh, almost white light. There’s a piano in the corner but no one is sitting behind it, and the room is filled with chatter as teenagers in matching practice gear collect their water bottles, warm-up shirts and pointe shoes on their way out.  
  
In the middle of it all stands Yuri, his hair tied up, pulling on a hoodie while having a conversation with the founder of the school.  
  
Otabek doesn’t know Lilia Baranovskaya personally, and he would like to keep it that way. He recognizes her talent - the way Yuri talks about her merits and achievements is enough to tell him she’s earned all the respect she’s getting although Otabek understands next to nothing about the world of dance - but she’s scary in an absolute nightmare kind of way. Otabek has never seen her smile, and she seems as strict as the profession she teaches. Otabek can detect pure displeasure in the way she looks at him, and if he’s completely honest, he doesn’t even blame her.  
  
The last of Yuri’s students leave the practice room, giving a questioning look at Otabek’s direction before heading to the dressing rooms. Otabek takes off his shoes and leaves them outside, giving a little wave when Yuri notices him and flashes him a bright smile. He puts his backpack down and takes out his camera, fiddling with the settings so he doesn’t have to meet eyes with Ms. Baranovskaya.  
  
“Thank you so much for letting us use the studio again. I’ll make sure to lock the doors when we leave.”  
  
“You better,” she says, but her tone lacks a sharp edge it usually has. “And make sure to clean after yourselves. I don’t need any messes in my practice rooms.”  
  
“There won’t be any,” Yuri says quickly, and Otabek steals a glance of him over his camera. The tips of Yuri’s ears are painted pink, and Otabek frowns in confusion.  
  
“I mean it, Yuri,” she says when she steps out of the room. Her sharp gaze finds Otabek, sending chills down his back. He hides behind his camera once more, wondering how Yuri survives hours with her in the same room. “No funny business under my watch, or in my dance studio.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Yuri mumbles, and with a final, slightly annoyed huff she closes the door and leaves them alone.  
  
Yuri turns to Otabek but avoids his eyes. The blush has spread down on his cheeks and he’s failing at hiding it from Otabek. He toys with the strings of his hoodie as he sits down next to him, pretending to be interested in the settings panel that’s still open on the camera’s screen.  
  
“...what was that?”  
  
“What was what?” Yuri asks, feigning innocence.  
  
“That,” Otabek says pointedly, nodding towards the door Ms. Baranovskaya had just walked out. Yuri shrugs a few times, but when Otabek keeps staring at him with a questioning stare, he deflates.  
  
“She… she thinks- werdaing,” Yuri rushes through the end of his sentence, words jumbling together.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
Yuri takes a deep breath, clearly fighting with himself. He straightens his back and exhales, twirling one of his hoodie strings around his index finger. “She thinks we are dating.”  
  
It takes a moment for Otabek to truly understand what Yuri is saying. He blinks, and as the realization fully hits him, he feels himself blush, too. “Just what kind of photoshoot does she think we’re having?”  
  
“I don’t know! And I’m not gonna ask,” Yuri says, seemingly scandalized by the thought. He jumps on his feet and crosses his arms over his chest, marching through the room to where his phone is plugged in to a music player. “Can we just get this done with? I’m hungry.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Otabek says. He stands up and checks the camera’s settings once more as Yuri pulls off his hoodie and starts one of his Spotify playlists.  
  
It’s been a week since Yuri gave Otabek the best blowjob of his entire life in the living room of their shared apartment. Otabek hasn’t told Yuri that it might have been a mind-blowing experience for him, especially because things were a little awkward between them for a few days. Otabek is thankful they grew tired of avoiding each other and hiding in their own rooms, although they haven’t explicitly talked about what went down. Otabek isn’t sure _should_ they talk about it, or is it better to just leave it - their friendship is back to what it was before, and that’s more important to Otabek than anything else.  
  
What they did was decided on a whim, and judged by Yuri’s reaction to Ms. Baranovskaya’s comments, he seems humiliated that someone is even thinking they could be dating, less alone doing something dirtier. Otabek wants to think Yuri agreed to model for him because they’re friends and they both gain something from these photoshoots, and not because he feels obliged to.  
  
“Beka? Are you okay?” Otabek snaps out of his head and meets Yuri’s questioning gaze. He’s frowning, already standing in the middle of the room. A melodic rock song is playing around them, and Otabek realizes he must’ve spaced out.  
  
“Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking of the best composition for these.”  
  
“What’s the plan, then?” Yuri is smiling, a little encouraging smirk he doesn’t often wear around others. He has his hands on his hips, black leggings paired with a simple white T-shirt, waiting for Otabek to tell him what to do.  
  
That smile shifts something within Otabek, but he can’t really identify what it is.  
  
“Let’s try some simple improvisation at first, okay? The assignment was movement, so do whatever that comes to your mind and I’ll follow.”  
  
Otabek has photographed Yuri more times than he can remember - he could probably put together an entire portfolio filled with nothing but pictures of Yuri. Otabek started photographing when they were still kids, carrying his father’s camera around until his parents bought him one of his own for his 12th birthday. He never thought he would get a degree out of his hobby, and although his family is still a little worried about his future, Otabek knows pursuing visual arts was the right decision for him. Finding a job after graduating will be tough, but at least he can do something he truly loves.  
  
And he really doesn’t love anything more than photographing: capturing moments and emotions, immortalizing the beauty of the world that can sometimes last less than a second; waiting for full moons and running after sunsets, and knowing when to stop and let the picture come together just before he clicks the shutter.  
  
Photographing Yuri is easy because he already knows how he’s supposed to dance for the camera. He doesn’t move too fast, and he listens and executes Otabek’s ideas perfectly. He’s flexible and strong, and time after time leaves Otabek wondering how a human being can move as beautifully and effortlessly as he does. Otabek lets Yuri use the pictures he’s taken as he wishes (he usually uploads them on Instagram or puts them in his own portfolio he uses for auditions), and he has never declined Otabek’s offer for a photoshoot.   
  
Otabek is fearing the moment his professors realize he’s always using the same model and force him to find someone else to photograph for a change.  
  
“Could you let your hair down for a few shots?” Otabek asks. The song has changed into a piano cover of a song Otabek knows but can’t remember the name of - it’s something by Yuri’s favorite band, that he's sure of. Yuri pulls his hair tie off and slips it around his wrist, running his fingers through his hair a few times to smooth it out. His hair has grown longer than it has ever been, and Yuri’s been talking about getting it cut. Otabek always says it suits him.  
  
Yuri does a couple of pirouettes, hair flowing around him, and Otabek knows he’s nailed the assignment.  
  
“It gets in my eyes,” Yuri complains, combing his hair back.  
  
“But it looks good in the pics. Could you do a few more steps around the room? I’ll tell you if you’re about to hit a wall.”  
  
“You’re lucky I’d trust you with my life,” Yuri says, half-jokingly, but the strange feeling inside Otabek’s chest glows.  
  
Routine helps Otabek follow Yuri through the finder and hit the shutter at the right times even though he feels like he’s been struck by lightning. He watches as Yuri turns into another pirouette, into a sequence of steps, into a high arabesque, and he thinks how absolutely gorgeous Yuri looks. Otabek knows the pictures will be captivating, but what makes them more beautiful is Otabek’s knowledge of how hard Yuri works for his dancing; how he perfects his technique after his classes and devotes hours to choreographies and lesson plans. Anyone can tell Yuri is talented and extraordinary whenever he moves to the music, but what they usually don’t see is what’s under the radiating exterior: an admirably stubborn boy with big dreams whom Otabek might love.  
  
Love?  
  
_Oh, fuck_.  
  
Otabek lowers his camera slowly, enjoying the last notes of the song as Yuri finishes his improvised performance. He wipes sweat off his forehead and gives Otabek another smile, slightly out of breath.  
  
“Did you get any good ones?”  
  
“Y-yeah,” Otabek stammers. He opens the camera roll to see what he has there, because if he’s completely honest, he can’t remember what kind of shots he just took. He skims through them quickly, his heartbeat loud enough to echo in his ears. “T-they’re perfect. Thanks, Yura.”  
  
“Any time,” Yuri says, oblivious to the inner panic Otabek is trying to tame. He ties his hair up again and reaches for his phone, pausing the music. “Also dinner’s on me tonight, so what would you like me to order? Indian or Chinese?”  
  
/ / /  
  
Otabek isn’t really sure why Yuri insists on watching a movie every Friday night after they’ve had dinner when both of them know he’ll nod off before the film is halfway through. Maybe it has something to do with routine - Yuri lives for routine, always struggling through holidays and vacations because he can’t follow the routine he has created for himself - or maybe he just wants to take a breather after another exhausting week.  
  
Otabek doesn’t mind it, he has always liked spending time with Yuri, but he’s worried his best friend is going to ruin his posture or develop neck pains after falling asleep on the couch every Friday for over a year now.  
  
They’re watching an action film from the 80’s, and when the protagonist’s car gets blown up for the third time, Yuri starts nodding off. His head tips down but he recovers quickly, blinking a few times and shifting on the couch, hugging a cushion to his chest. Otabek sees from the corner of his eye how the look on Yuri’s face is determined: he’s fighting to stay awake. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand, and that’s enough to tell Otabek he’s about to doze off.  
  
“Do you wanna go to bed?”  
  
“Hm? No, no, no. I’m awake,” Yuri mumbles, his eyes half-closed. Otabek hums, stifling a laugh. He stretches his arms over his head and pretends to get more comfortable on the couch when in reality he moves a little bit closer to Yuri. He pulls the decorative quilt his mother gifted them over himself, and almost like on cue, Yuri’s head falls on his shoulder.  
  
Without saying anything, Otabek covers Yuri with the quilt, too.  
  
It takes a moment for Yuri’s breathing to even out, and Otabek lets him fall asleep there like he does every Friday. He hasn’t really followed the plot of the movie they’re watching, but he keeps his eyes focused on the TV as the protagonist gets scolded by a beautiful woman wearing a dress that’s revealing a bit too much skin. Yuri’s hair smells like the apple-scented conditioner he uses, and Otabek’s hand is shaking when he runs his fingers through blond hair.  
  
His touch doesn’t stir Yuri awake, and Otabek lets out a relieved sigh. He keeps slowly playing with Yuri’s hair, gently and idly, like it was the most normal thing to do when it really wasn’t. Otabek has made Yuri’s hair before for shows and photoshoots - he’s had a lot of practice with his three younger sisters - but this is different, and Yuri would probably think so, too. For some reason the act makes Otabek calm down and truly relax on the couch, almost like his hand was moving on its own as his thoughts drift.  
  
Otabek has never been in love. He’s been on dates but he finds them awkward and uncomfortable; a few times he’s had sex with the same person more than once, but they have never developed into serious relationships. Otabek hasn’t necessarily been looking for love, because he wants to believe he’ll run into the right person when fate decides it’s supposed to happen.  
  
Otabek didn’t think he would be in love with his best friend until he realized he kind of is. It’s been over a week since Yuri went down on him, and maybe the experience rocked Otabek’s world so out of place his head finally pushed front the feelings he’s been trying so hard to repress. He finds it scary, and a part of him wishes he could forget about those feelings and hide them again, because he knows eventually someone is going to get hurt.  
  
Between them there has always been hugs and falling asleep on the other during movie nights; there’s been sneaking into the other’s bed after a nightmare, and crying in the bathroom together after too many drinks; Otabek does Yuri’s hair for performances, and Yuri models happily in Otabek’s projects; Otabek says he’s offering Yuri a way to destress that doesn’t include him turning to dating apps, and Yuri takes the offer.  
  
And it’s going to go on until one of them gets into a more serious relationship, that Otabek is sure of.  
  
/  
  
Yuri is so warm and comfortable when he wakes up that he doesn’t want to open his eyes. He tries to locate the source of the heat, but it seems to be everywhere around him: over him, next to him, behind him. He’s not entirely sure if he really woke up or is he still dreaming, so he blinks his eyes slowly open to find out.  
  
The TV is still on, but the action movie they were watching has ended. The quilt Otabek’s mom made for them as a housewarming gift is draped over Yuri’s legs, and he must’ve slumped against Otabek when he fell asleep, because his head is still resting on his firm shoulder. He can hear Otabek breathing in and out in a calm rhythm, which means he’s probably sleeping, too. It takes all of Yuri’s inner strength not to move when he realizes the comforting weight on the top of his head is Otabek’s hand, fingers tangled in his overgrown hair. He’s pulled Yuri close to his side, the scent of their laundry detergent and Otabek’s cologne dancing around Yuri.  
  
It’s nice. It’s warm and safe, and it’s definitely something Yuri shouldn’t enjoy as much as he does. If Otabek was awake Yuri would pull away, but since he’s seemingly drifted into sleep, Yuri lets himself bask in it.  
  
Getting a taste of what it’d be like to be close to Otabek when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, how he sounds like when he feels good, and how his body reacts to the most simple touches haunts Yuri still. If he concentrates enough he can recall the small noises they both made, the taste of Otabek on his tongue and the feeling of fingers grabbing him by his hair, tugging harder and harder.  
  
The mere memory drives Yuri crazy, and he’s ashamed to admit he wants more.  
  
He wants more of Otabek in every way possible: he wants to see his face when he feels so good he gets pushed over the edge, but he also wants to kiss him as a way to say good morning. He wants Otabek to tell him about his day and his photography projects, and he wants to share a bed with him and not get up until noon on weekends. He _wants_ so badly it hurts, but Yuri is smart enough to know he’ll never get that. Otabek isn’t interested in him like that, and he’ll never be - the surprised, almost weirded out face he made after Yuri told him Ms. Baranovskaya thinks they’re dating had confirmed that much.  
  
They fooled around once and it didn’t ruin their friendship. Yuri knows he’s selfish for wishing they could do it again, but he also knows it probably won’t be long before Otabek finds someone he’ll fall in love with, and then Yuri won’t get close to him like that anymore. The fact makes him bitter, but instead of thinking about it he closes his eyes again and tells himself to enjoy the warmth of Otabek now that he has the chance, letting it lull him back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay healthy ♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/avaruussade) | [tumblr](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through the story! I really enjoyed writing this chapter although it took me a long time to finish,,, I hope you enjoy it nevertheless!

Christmas break somehow comes too quickly and not a day too late at the same time. Although neither of their families traditionally celebrate Christmas, they head home straight from Yuri’s last lesson of the year. It’s way too cold for Otabek to drive his motorcycle, so they take the bus, and Yuri sleeps the entire three-hour journey although it’s cramped and uncomfortable and the seats aren’t built for his long legs.  
  
Once again Otabek finds himself feeling jealous of his best friend’s sleeping abilities.  
  
On Christmas Day Otabek’s family comes over to the Plisetsky house around noon, and they prepare dinner together like they do every year. Yuri is forced to help although everyone knows he’s an absolute disaster in the kitchen, but after he manages to cut his finger while peeling the potatoes (accidentally or not, no one is really sure) he’s banished from the kitchen for everyone’s safety. After dinner Yuri and Otabek sneak into Yuri’s room for some room-temperature vodka that Otabek’s Muslim parents would highly disagree with, but according to Otabek what they don’t know won’t hurt them.  
  
When they gather together for New Year’s dinner in the Altin household, Yuri isn’t even invited to the kitchen at first. He’s happy to make the table with Otabek’s youngest sister until he’s summoned to the kitchen by Otabek.  
  
“You sure you want me to help you?” Yuri asks, washing his hands.  
  
“I’m not giving you a knife so I think we’ll be fine,” Otabek says, his serious demeanor cracking slightly at the offended pout Yuri makes.  
  
Since New Year has always been the more important holiday for their families, the New Year’s dinner is huge, the prepared food usually lasting way into the new year. It usually takes hours of meticulous cooking and baking, so every pair of helping hands is needed at one point or another.  
  
Yuri keeps his eyes fixed on the frying pan, pushing chopped onions around with a spatula while next to him Otabek cuts more vegetables into neat squares and tosses them on the pan whenever his cutting board gets too full. The kitchen around them is full of noise, and Yuri almost jumps out of his skin when someone places their hands on his shoulders.  
  
“Don’t burn yourself. Or the food,” Nikolai Plisetsky laughs.  
  
“I’m being careful. And Beka’s right there to save the food if I mess up,” Yuri jokes, pulling another laugh out of his grandfather.  
  
“And save you, too, I assume,” he says with a smile, and Otabek wishes it was him standing by the stove so he would have something to blame his sudden blush for. Nikolai doesn’t seem to notice it, or at least he doesn’t point it out, and fortunately Yuri is too scared to look away from the frying pan to even take a glance at Otabek.  
  
“You make me sound like a helpless child,” Yuri complains.  
  
“Oh, but you are the baby of the family, Yurachka,” Nikolai says, and Yuri rolls his eyes in annoyance. Nikolai pats his grandson’s shoulder and turns to Otabek, a small but gentle smile on his face. “And I couldn’t thank you enough for looking after him, Otabek. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m really glad you two are still sticking together.”  
  
“I-it’s my pleasure,” Otabek stutters, hoping Nikolai won’t see how flustered his words have made him.  
  
Before their break started they were both drowned in school projects, and Yuri obviously had his lessons at Ms. Baranovskaya’s studio on top of that, so they didn’t have a lot of time to do basically anything together. Working on papers, edits and photoshoots were actually exactly what Otabek needed since they gave him something else to think about than Yuri. Thinking about Yuri and their relationship had become more and more painful, and although Otabek missed their weekly movie nights and (usually) accidental cuddle sessions during them, he rationalized that taking some distance would clear his head and make the whole _‘I think I’ve fallen in love with my best friend’_ \- situation a bit easier.  
  
It didn’t. It actually made everything worse.  
  
And, somehow, being with Yuri here back at home is making everything worse, too. He’s always there, always around, laughing at Otabek’s father’s dumb jokes and smuggling a bottle of vodka into his room, sharing it with Otabek after dinners; playing in the snow with Otabek’s siblings and throwing snowballs at him although he’s not even playing, screeching and laughing as he runs away from the snow Otabek ends up throwing at him; falling asleep on the couch after a Disney movie marathon with the younger ones, looking like an angel with his blond hair and long eyelashes.  
  
Nikolai’s smile gets wider, and Otabek almost cuts his finger when Yuri mumbles “I’m really glad we’re sticking together, too.”

/ / /  
  


There’s a frat party on the first Saturday after Christmas Break, because of course there is.  
  
Otabek isn’t a huge fan of frat parties, because there are usually too many people getting way too drunk, the music’s so loud having a normal conversation is impossible, and by the end of the night either a massive fight breaks out or someone ends up in a hospital. He prefers chilling in someone’s living room or even clubbing, but Yuri needed to clear his head (Otabek asked what was bothering him so much he absolutely had to go out to drink, but he refused to elaborate), and Otabek tagged along because he didn’t have anything else to do.  
  
A mistake, obviously.  
  
He’s already irritated although he’s only been there for an hour and a half. He’s sitting on one of the living room couches and tries to hear what Leo - a classmate of his, whom he’s doing a project with - is saying, but the music is too loud for that. Leo leans in to get his message across better, but then someone decides to turn the music’s volume up, overpowering Leo’s voice.  
  
Leo rolls his eyes in annoyance, opens a bottle of beer and takes out his phone. Otabek is nurturing a beer of his own, his first one of the night, but he’s not really in the mood to drink it. He watches how Leo types something on his phone and then smiles widely, eyes fixed on the screen (he’s most likely texting his boyfriend who lives on the other side of the world, and the sudden bitterness in Otabek’s mouth forces him to turn his gaze away).  
  
The living room is full of people dancing to the bass-boosted music, the floor vibrating underneath their feet. Otabek’s eyes drag from one unfamiliar face to another, and he takes a slow sip of beer, swallowing with difficulty when his eyes land on Yuri.  
  
Yuri is wearing faux-leather pants and a black crop top, and he looks stunning. He always looks stunning, of course, but there’s something incredibly enthralling in him that night. He’s dancing in the other end of the room, a red solo cup in his hand and a pair of arms around his waist.  
  
Otabek doesn’t know the guy: he’s tall, light-brown hair on a tiny ponytail in the nape of his neck, the fingertips of his right hand playfully following the waistband of Yuri’s pants. He says something and Yuri laughs (he throws his head back and his hair falls over his shoulders like a waterfall of silver and gold, and Otabek can hear the sound of Yuri’s laugh in his ears), the hand not holding the red cup placed on the guy’s bicep. He pulls Yuri closer, helps him take that half a step that was left between them, and Yuri’s body follows the music like it always does, swaying and rolling and pressing against the guy.   
  
The beer Otabek has been struggling to down is gone before he realizes it, his grip on the bottle tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He wants to plunge through the sea of dancing people and tear that guy’s hands off of Yuri, but he won’t do that because Yuri isn’t _his_. Otabek hates the possessive side of himself that seems to think Yuri would ever belong to anyone other than himself and himself only, no matter what the status of their relationship is (and right now they very much are _nothing_ but two best friends sharing an apartment).  
  
Otabek calmly accepts the fact that he’s angry: mostly at himself, but also at the guy who has a smug grin on his face as his hands wander up and down on Yuri’s body. Otabek is also a little embarrassed by the intensity of his feelings (anger, possessiveness, jealousy, _love_ ), and although he blames it on the alcohol, his rational mind knows one bottle of beer isn’t enough to make him drunk.  
  
He has never experienced heartbreak, so he’s not sure how it feels like, but his chest aches and there’s a lump of uncried tears in his throat. He clears his throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump but it refuses to move, so he simply stands up and nods towards the kitchen when Leo gives him a questioning look. Leo throws an arm around Otabek’s shoulders and they make it to the kitchen together where a group of people Otabek remembers seeing in his classes offers to share their selection of hard liquors with them.  
  
“Fuck, yes, please,” Otabek hears himself say as he reaches for the whiskey.  
  
/  
  
  
“Hey, you’re Yuri, right?”  
  
Yuri recognizes the boy talking to him as Otabek’s friend (or maybe classmate?) who had greeted them when they had walked in through the front door, brought Otabek a bottle of beer and pulled him away from Yuri, consciously or not. A part of Yuri had been extremely grateful back then because he had come to the party to get every Otabek-centered thought out of his mind.  
  
“Yeah, why?” Yuri asks and runs a hand through his hair. The guy he’s been dancing with for most of the night gives a challenging look at the boy and wraps an arm around Yuri’s waist.  
  
“You and Otabek room together, don’tcha? Well, he’s in a pretty bad shape-”  
  
“Is he alright?” Yuri’s heart jumps into his throat and he’s on his feet faster than what should be humanly possible after all the drinks he has had. He suddenly feels a lot soberer than he did a moment ago, and he ignores the annoyed _‘hey, what the fuck?’_ the guy left on the couch yells after him as he follows Otabek’s friend into the kitchen.  
  
The kitchen table is full of plastic cups and half-empty bottles of alcohol. Yuri doesn’t know any of the faces sitting around the table, yet they greet him like he was an old friend. He gives them a small smile as he makes his way to the other end of the table, thanking the girl seated next to Otabek when she gives her chair to Yuri and climbs on another girl’s lap, both of them giggling.  
  
Otabek’s eyes are hazy with alcohol, and he frowns in his attempt to get his vision focused.  
  
“Hey,” Yuri says, and Otabek blinks slowly, his shoulders relaxing upon recognizing Yuri’s voice. “How many drinks have you had?”  
  
“Some,” Otabek says and shrugs. “That bottle, mostly.” He gestures at a bottle of whiskey in front of him, only an inch of liquid left at the bottom of it. Yuri knows he shouldn’t find the situation hilarious, but he does.  
  
It’s usually him who gets smashed in parties, mostly because he’s kind of lightweight and Otabek doesn’t usually drink more than a beer or two. Yuri can’t even remember how many times Otabek has carried him home, drunk and unable to stand, and he’s grateful Otabek has always looked after him during those nights. He never thought their roles would be reversed one day, but here they are, and Yuri feels responsible to get Otabek home safely.  
  
“Okay,” Yuri says, laughing at the absurdity of the moment. “I’m gonna get both of us some water, and then we’ll go home. So don’t move, I’ll be right back.”  
  
Yuri pats Otabek’s arm and ventures further into the kitchen, looking for clean cups. He’s surprised when Otabek’s friend-slash-classmate joins him and reaches for a stack of plastic cups hidden under a breakfast island.  
  
“Thank you. He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him he should slow down, so I was kinda out of options,” he says, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips. “I’m sorry I interrupted whatever you and that guy had going on.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Yuri says, and he means it. The guy is good-looking and Yuri had fun dancing with him, but if he’s completely honest, he’s not exactly in the mood for some drunken one-night stand. “Beka’s more important, anyway.”  
  
“He talks about you often,” the boy says, opens the fridge and pulls out a massive bottle of iced water. Yuri stares, feeling like something warm and molten gets poured over him.  
  
“He does?”  
  
“Yeah, and you model in all his projects, don’t you? That’s how I knew who you are. The way he photographs you is out of this world, really,” he says and gives Yuri a smirk, filling the cups with water. “My name’s Leo, by the way.”  
  
Yuri takes two cups of water back to Otabek while Leo makes sure everyone else at the kitchen table gets their share, too. Otabek reaches for the cup clumsily, almost knocking it down, and Yuri helps him wrap his fingers around the plastic. Otabek complains about the water being too cold and too tasteless, and Yuri tries to hold his laughter in as he calls them a taxi.  
  
He praises Otabek for emptying the cup and Otabek gives him a strange look; soft, open, and a little tired. He blinks slowly and Yuri gives him a smile. “Let’s go home, shall we?”  
  
Otabek nods and leans against Yuri, letting him lead him into a cab. He feels disoriented and a little sick, and Yuri tells him to close his eyes for a moment. He does, resting his head on Yuri’s shoulder that’s bony and kind of uncomfortable, but he’s also warm and smells familiar, and he pets Otabek’s hair the entire drive to their apartment, the feeling of his fingers running through his hair setting something behind Otabek’s ribs on fire.  
  
“If your parents saw you right now, they’d flip their shit,” Yuri says when he struggles to unlock the door to their apartment. Otabek agrees with him, knowing he must look ridiculous sitting there in the middle of the stairway at three in the morning, his world swaying from left to right. He hums and watches Yuri open their front door, his collection of keychains jingling loudly in the quiet building.  
  
Otabek manages to get on his feet and take four steps before he finds himself on the floor again. He barely makes it inside and he swears he hears Yuri laughing at him, the tiny noise getting swallowed by the _click_ of the door going shut behind them.  
  
“Alright,” Yuri says, appearing in front of him. He’s thrown his jacket away and he sits down, searching for Otabek’s eyes. “Do you need help with your shoes?”  
  
Otabek can barely feel his limbs, and he nods slowly. A part of him thinks he should apologize, so he does.  
  
Yuri giggles. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us sometimes.” He crosses his legs and starts untying the laces of Otabek’s combat boots, a canine biting down on his lower lip in concentration. He has long, skinny fingers, and Otabek catches himself thinking Yuri should eat more.  
  
“I’ll cook you dinner tomorrow,” Otabek decides, certain and unabashed. Yuri huffs out a laugh at his words.  
  
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be too hungover to do anything tomorrow.”  
  
“I’ll cook,” Otabek says, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. His rational mind knows he probably won’t be feeling too great the next day, but he doesn’t want Yuri to doubt him and his promises. “Wanna take care of you.”  
  
Yuri looks up from the shoelaces at that, meeting Otabek’s gaze. There’s something strange in the way he looks at Otabek, something that hasn’t been there before, but Otabek can’t quite grasp it. Yuri blinks and it’s gone, but Otabek still feels it lingering around his best friend - it’s immaterial but tangible, bigger than just a drunken realization.  
  
“Okay, Beka,” Yuri says, his voice sounding like a sigh. Otabek opens his mouth to say something but then Yuri tugs at his shoe, pulling it off. Otabek wiggles his toes and Yuri laughs at him as he sets the boot aside. “Next one.”  
  
Yuri shifts and Otabek relaxes his right leg, letting Yuri work the laces open. His eyes follow Yuri’s fingers, pulling a knot apart and loosening the laces, his hand squeezing Otabek’s ankle when he’s done with them and ready to help him out of the boot.  
  
“Did you and the guy kiss?” Otabek asks instead of toeing the shoe off. He’s staring at Yuri’s hand still holding him by his ankle, his head suddenly buzzing louder than before.  
  
He’s not sure why he wants to know.  
  
“What guy?”  
  
“The guy you were with at the party.”  
  
“Oh,” Yuri exhales, surprised. Otabek blinks slowly but doesn’t look up, his vision unfocused and shaky. “We didn’t. We just danced.”  
  
“I want to kiss you,” Otabek mumbles, the apartment building around them quiet enough for Yuri to hear him. “And touch you like he did. Hold you.”  
  
The silence stretches on, and Otabek can feel a headache forming in the back of his skull, his thoughts moving around like molasses: sticky and heavy, unfinished sentences getting tangled with each other. His heart is hammering inside his chest, banging painfully against his ribs as if to warn him; telling the rest of his body that’s been overtaken by numbing alcohol that he shouldn’t feel as calm as he does.  
  
“You’re drunk,” Yuri whispers, breaking the silence. He pulls Otabek’s shoe off and places it next to the other one, his movements gentle despite the waver in his voice that Otabek’s brain is too tired to notice.   
  
“A little,” Otabek admits with a sigh. He’s still feeling sick, and he sees colorful spirals when he closes his eyes.  
  
“A _lot_ ,” Yuri says, and Otabek catches him smiling although there’s no mirth in his words. He squints, tries to see the face of his best friend better, and notices how even his eyes lack the usually playful shine in them. Otabek wants to reach out and pull Yuri down into a hug, but that’s where his otherwise intoxicated consciousness draws the line: you’ll regret touching him, it says.  
  
So Otabek just stares and stares until Yuri gets on his feet and helps him up, his skin burning where Yuri’s fingers brush against it, and the next morning when he wakes up to a splitting headache and a glass of water on his bedside table, Otabek decides not to remember anything from the night before.  
  
/ / /  
  


Otabek has been feeling hungover for the past six days, and he comes to the conclusion that he must be old.  
  
He only threw up once after the frat party where he apparently consumed a whole bottle of whiskey all by himself (his memories of the party are a little hazy, if he’s being completely honest), which he considers as a win, but he doesn’t think he deserves a week-long hangover. Yes, he drank too much way too quickly because someone flirted with the person he has a massive crush on, and _yes_ , he revealed some of his deepest secrets involving that aforementioned crush to his best friend (who, if everyone wasn’t aware, is the person he’s crushing on) and regretted it so much in the next morning he was ready to jump out of the window, but still.  
  
Otabek is a good person. He tries to be, at least.  
  
And that's why he said _“absolutely nothing”_ when Yuri asked him how much he remembered of the night of the party while Otabek was cooking them an extremely unhealthy dinner later that day. He did it only because he doesn’t want Yuri to think he’s some kind of weird creep who wants to kiss their best friend - that’s not something best friends do together, after all.  
  
Although Otabek knows they aren’t the most traditional pair of best friends as they sit there on his bed, hip to hip, both working on their laptops. He rationalizes it’s just easier to have Yuri right next to him when he edits the pictures Yuri modeled in - that way he can give his feedback immediately, and while Otabek struggles with his editing program, Yuri can work on his own assignments. Yuri giving him a blowjob back then was also about nothing but saving time and salvaging Otabek’s peace of mind, since Yuri didn’t have to leave the house and Otabek could make sure he wasn’t meeting up with someone shady.  
  
Otabek wants nothing but the best for Yuri, and he’d do everything (and more) they did back then if it would help Yuri. Otabek genuinely believes his best friend deserves to be happy and stress-free.  
  
So when Yuri lets out a heavy sigh and slams his laptop shut, Otabek frowns. “Everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri says, running a hand through his hair, the sour look on his face telling Otabek something’s bothering him. He places his laptop on Otabek’s bedside table, picks up his phone and stretches his arms above his head, the loose sleeveless shirt he has on too long to reveal any skin. Otabek finds himself a little disappointed at that, but he doesn’t have the time to beat himself up for it.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Just,” Yuri starts, getting out of the bed. He doesn’t have any pants on, just his underwear, and his long legs are painted with bruises. He takes a few steps away and then stops, as if annoyed at his own incompetence to form words. “I can’t concentrate on the essay. I have to clear my head a bit, I think.”  
  
He’s almost out of the room, fingers tapping on the screen of his phone, when Otabek talks. “If there’s something I can do, just tell me.”  
  
Yuri halts, fingertips stopping in the middle of writing something. He glances at Otabek over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means that if you need to get some frustrations out, I’m here,” Otabek says. He takes a pointed look at Yuri’s phone, and then returns his attention back to whatever he has open on the editing program. “I owe you, after all. Last time I was the only one getting off.”  
  
The air in Otabek’s bedroom is so heavy and quiet he can hear the sharp inhale Yuri takes and how it quivers when he lets it out. Spikes of nervous energy shoot through Otabek’s cells, and he knows he shouldn’t be saying the things he is since less than a week ago he drunkenly told Yuri he wanted to kiss him; less than a week ago Yuri forgave him for saying such nasty things because he pretended not to remember.  
  
There’s always a chance Yuri doesn’t remember, either, and Otabek’s offers have nothing to do with _kissing_. They’re about clearing their heads and blowing off some steam. Betting on their strange inside joke to work in his favor after everything is definitely a risky move, but he can almost see all the stress and anxieties weighing Yuri down, and he wants his laughing, vibrant and gleefully determined best friend back.  
  
“You’re offering?” Yuri asks with a weak laugh. He’s avoiding Otabek’s eyes but he’s turned around, not ready to leave the room anymore.  
  
“Yeah,” Otabek affirms in a low voice, slowly closing the lid of his laptop and putting it aside, his mouth dry. “I still am.”  
  
He watches how Yuri's hand clutching his phone relaxes, fingers unwrapping as he leaves the device on Otabek’s desk and walks across the room. He climbs back onto the bed and settles himself astride Otabek’s lap, every movement unsure and slow. Otabek places his hands on Yuri’s hips, securing him there. He wants to reach out and brush away the hair that falls over his face just to see how far the light-pink blush rising on his cheeks goes, but he holds himself back: touching Yuri like _that_ isn’t allowed.  
  
Otabek tries to calm himself down by drawing invisible circles over Yuri’s hip bones with his thumbs, gripping his shirt when Yuri tentatively rolls his hips. It’s a slow but heavy drag of his body against Otabek’s, almost like he was expecting Otabek to stop him or push him away. Yuri lets out a shaky sigh when Otabek pulls him closer instead, his breathing ghosting over the pulse in Yuri’s neck.  
  
“Is this alright?” Otabek whispers, too afraid to move forwards without Yuri’s permission. On top of him Yuri shifts slightly, tossing his hair back and pressing their bodies more demandingly together, and Otabek doesn’t wait for him to say anything: he places a string of feather-like kisses on Yuri’s neck, and Yuri’s words turn into a breathy moan. He grinds down a few times, tries to find a steady rhythm and the right angle for the friction to hit both of them just right, one of his hands finding its place on the back of Otabek’s neck.  
  
Carefully Otabek slides his hands down from Yuri’s hips, slow on purpose to give him time to react if he doesn’t want Otabek’s touch traveling anywhere. However, Yuri seems to be into it, whining needily when Otabek traces the curve of his ass and settles his hands there, following the sway of Yuri’s body. Otabek can feel how hard Yuri has gotten in his underwear, the slide of their cocks against each other dizzying. He mouths at Yuri’s neck and squeezes his ass, pulls him as close as possible, and Yuri moans out a swear.  
  
“God, Beka,” Yuri whines, and he hates how desperate he sounds. His head is too foggy for him to really get angry at himself, and when he feels Otabek’s cock twitch at the nickname only Yuri uses of him, Yuri’s thinned out self-control finally snaps.  
  
He wants _more_ : he wants Otabek even closer, so close he can’t tell which breath of air is his and which is Otabek’s; he wants Otabek’s hands roam on his naked skin and touch every inch of his body, wreck him and pull him apart because no one else is allowed to do that; he wants Otabek to press their mouths and tongues together and bite his neck, claim him and then kiss all the pain away.  
  
Yuri wants so much, but he knows he can’t have any of it because Otabek only wants him like _that_ when he’s so drunk he can barely remember his own name.  
  
The truth hurts, but Yuri decides to act on his instinct, anyway. He pulls back, the confused and almost alarmed look on Otabek’s face making him reach for his hand and give it a quick squeeze of reassurance before he somewhat awkwardly wiggles out of his underwear. Yuri feels Otabek’s eyes on himself when he settles back and grinds their hips together, the material of Otabek’s sweatpants feeling completely different now against his naked skin. The moan he lets out is almost a sob, pathetic and breathless, and his entire body shakes with it. Yuri supports himself with his hands placed on Otabek’s shoulders, his fingers gripping the fabric of Otabek’s T-shirt when he rolls his hips again, and Otabek intently watching at Yuri’s bare dick sliding along the shape of his own clothed erection is both embarrassing and thrilling at the same time.  
  
Yuri’s heart skips excitedly a beat when Otabek’s hand slips past the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls his dick free. It’s as big as Yuri remembers, thicker and longer compared to Yuri’s own as Otabek wraps his fingers around them both. The feeling is indescribable, swiping every coherent thought out of Yuri’s head and making his hips stutter. He slows down and lets Otabek stroke them, a thumb sweeping over the tip of Yuri’s leaking cock punching a weak whine out of him.   
  
He’s too awestruck and aroused to look away when Otabek seeks for his eyes and looks at him - really _looks_ at him, takes in his expression and open mouth and blushed cheeks - and Yuri thinks he’d be happy to drown in the black of Otabek’s dilated pupils. Otabek is breathing heavily, almost moaning with every exhale, and Yuri gasps when the hand not stroking them closer and closer to climax grabs a fistful of his ass and pulls him forward. Yuri thrusts into Otabek’s hand, the drag of their leaking cocks against each other so hot and intimate he can’t really comprehend it.  
  
Yuri’s mind is reeling at the realization that it really is Otabek - the person he’s had a hopeless crush on for _years_ \- touching him like that, and he’s holding eye contact with Otabek only because he doesn’t know where else to look. Otabek’s gaze is full of wonder and adoration with a hint of molten darkness Yuri has never seen in it. It makes the bottom of Yuri’s stomach burn and coil with something hot, electricity zapping through his veins. He’s panting, his overgrown hair falling over both of them, and when a pad of Otabek’s finger brushes over his hole, Yuri cries out.  
  
“Is this okay?” Otabek asks. His voice is rough, deep and husky, and he’s still looking at Yuri like he was his most prized possession. Every cell in Yuri’s body wants to get devoured by him, and Yuri sees stars behind his eyelids when he blinks.  
  
“Mhm, yes. Yes, yes,” Yuri says, repeating his words just in case. He reaches for Otabek’s hand and kisses his wrist, feeling a thundering pulse under his lips. He licks the skin, plants another kiss in the middle of Otabek’s palm and mouths at his middle finger. Yuri knows he’s teetering on the edge of acting too lewd but he doesn’t care: all he wants and needs is Otabek touching him, unraveling him with his hands.  
  
Yuri closes his lips around Otabek’s middle and index fingers, tongue flicking at the stretch of skin between them, and Otabek breathes in sharply. He laps at the fingers, coats them in spit and moans as Otabek slides them over his tongue before pulling them out of his mouth. Yuri’s eyes flutter close and his cheeks burn from both embarrassment and arousal, and a part of him knows best friends don’t do things like this together.  
  
Another part of him doesn’t care.  
  
Yuri rolls his hips as Otabek’s hand skims over his skin, and he holds his breath in anticipation when a saliva-coated fingertip circles his rim. Otabek adds pressure but doesn’t push into him, the lazy movement of his other hand coming to a stop, too. Yuri whines loudly, overwhelmed by the hot puffs of air breathed between them, how Otabek’s cock twitches next to his and the little noises of real, dirty lust Otabek makes, created somewhere deep inside his chest. Yuri has never heard Otabek sound like that, so desperate and so incredibly turned on, and he wants nothing but to lower himself on Otabek’s fingers and let them send him over the edge he’s already dancing dangerously close to.   
  
“Yura,” Otabek whispers, voice strained and clipped, and Yuri’s hips jump and thrust his heavily leaking dick into the loose hold of Otabek’s hand. “Fuck, _Yura_.”  
  
Otabek pushes a finger past Yuri’s rim, and Yuri thinks he might die. He rests his forehead against Otabek’s and moans, hands coming to rest on each side of Otabek’s neck. The skin under Yuri’s hands is clammy with sweat and so hot he’s afraid he’ll be left with burns. He’s not able to open his eyes even though he really wants to see the look on Otabek’s face: does he look like a mess, too? Is he enjoying this as much as his voice implies?  
  
The finger inside Yuri retreats and then pushes back in, going deeper and deeper with each little flick of Otabek’s wrist. It prods and crooks, and Yuri keeps whimpering, too far gone to get ashamed of how pathetic he must sound. Otabek shifts with a tiny grunt, the position of his hand changing slightly, and only a hint of touch at his prostate make Yuri come with a scream. He comes all over Otabek’s hand and shirt, his body still trembling when Otabek curses loudly and spills over them both.  
  
Yuri isn’t sure how long it takes him to come back to his senses, but when he opens his eyes, the light hurts his retinas and he’s shivering from cold. He blinks a few times and pulls away from Otabek, rolling on his back on the bed. He stares at the ceiling, painfully aware he has cum on his shirt and thighs, and the blush that climbs on his face burns all the way to the tip of his ears.  
  
Otabek clears his throat and Yuri braces himself.  
  
“Feeling more inspired about that essay already?”  
  
Yuri can’t help it - he laughs. He laughs until his chest hurts and he has to wipe tears away, his wheezing and hiccuping only making him laugh harder. Otabek joins him after a confused moment, reaching to tickle Yuri’s bare feet and cackling at his horrified screeches. The past half an hour feels like a bizarre lucid dream, and after a long, cold shower Yuri has dinner Otabek has cooked for them. They watch an episode of some new Netflix crime documentary, placing bets on who’s the murderer, and when Yuri turns in his completed essay and shuts his laptop a few minutes to midnight, he very pointedly decides not to think about it.  
  
_It_ being the fact they basically had sex earlier, and then went on with their day as if nothing had happened. They didn’t talk about what had happened, and this time Yuri didn’t make things awkward by fleeing the scene, and Yuri isn’t going to admit he felt less stressed out afterwards, because that would just prove their little arrangement works.  
  
Yuri doesn’t want it to work, because he’s afraid next time he’ll do something stupid, like confess the feelings he has for Otabek and ruin their friendship.  
  
/ / /  
  


Without giggling children and noisy teenagers running around, Ms. Baranovskaya’s dance studio feels cold and lifeless. A haunting, melancholic piano melody playing in the depths of the studio only manages to make the atmosphere more creepy, and Otabek jogs through the corridors to the practice room Yuri’s lessons are being held in.  
  
It’s the first time Otabek has arrived there after hours, and more than half an hour late - of course he and Leo would get caught up with finishing their project on the day he had agreed to go grocery shopping with Yuri. He had sent Yuri a message immediately when he had realized he’d be late and Yuri had replied with a thumbs-up emoji, but Otabek hadn’t expected to arrive at the dance studio and find himself in what could be straight from a horror film.  
  
He’s about to knock on the doorframe to announce his arrival when he freezes on the spot. The music is still playing, but he had thought Yuri had heard him coming in since he practically ran there from the front door. Instead of greeting him Yuri is dancing, his eyes closed and body following the piano melody in a way Otabek has never seen before.  
  
Yuri’s dancing is always beautiful, but something in him seems different. Everything he does still looks effortless and light, but there’s a sharp edge in his movements that hasn’t been there before. He’s alluring and almost angry, powerful and scary yet so captivating Otabek can’t even reach for his camera although he really wants to. He simply stands there and watches, afraid to even breathe because he doesn’t want Yuri’s dance to end.  
  
Yuri loves ballet and contemporary, loves expressing himself through dancing, but when he performs, it’s always someone else’s choreography - someone else’s thoughts and dreams. Otabek watches his best friend and thinks he must be seeing the real Yuri right there in front of him; _his_ thoughts and dreams, fears and desires. It’s heart-wrenching and delicate, seeing Yuri’s courageous but vulnerable soul on display.  
  
Otabek knows that’s something Yuri is afraid to show even to him, so when the song’s final notes ring through the air Otabek hides behind a corner and waits a few seconds, his heart beating in his chest like he had just run a marathon.  
  
He hears Yuri pause the next song, and that’s when he knocks his knuckles on the doorframe.  
  
“Sorry, I’m late.” Yuri jumps in surprise and turns to look at him, cheeks red and chest heaving from all the dancing. Otabek pretends he doesn’t know why. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” Yuri says and locks his phone. “I didn’t hear you coming in, that’s all.”  
  
Otabek hums. “Are you working on something?”  
  
“Kinda,” Yuri says with a shrug. He walks to his bag left under one of the barres and pulls on a yellow sweater, chewing on his lower lip. “And kinda not.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You know how the dance department has a show every spring? A showcase kind of thing,” Yuri says, and Otabek nods - his department asked for volunteers to photograph in the upcoming show, and he had signed up without having to think twice since Yuri had mentioned his class would perform there. “Well, my teachers asked me to do a solo in this year’s show and I don’t know if I should do it.”  
  
“Of course you should do it,” Otabek says immediately. Yuri looks at him surprised, and Otabek shrugs. He slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks down, only a little embarrassed he blurted out his thoughts without thinking. “It’s a great opportunity, don’t you think?”  
  
“It is,” Yuri agrees. He switches off the room’s music player and unplugs his phone from it with a sigh. “But it’s also extra work.”  
  
“True. But I know you can do it,” Otabek says, giving Yuri a small smile. The corner of Yuri’s mouth lifts up and his shoulders relax, the sight filling Otabek’s chest with indescribable affection. “I believe in you.”  
  
“Thanks, Beka.” Yuri’s smile grows, and Otabek has to fight against a need to pull him into a hug. He wishes he could somehow articulate just how much he believes in Yuri; how much he’d be ready to do to see Yuri succeed and find his happiness.  
  
“And if there’s something I can do to help, just tell me, okay?” Otabek says when Yuri has turned the lights off, rummaging through his bag for the dance studio’s keys so they can lock the doors, and he misses how a soft shade of red spreads all over Yuri’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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